


intoxicated with the madness

by adozendays



Category: Re-Animator (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Naked Female Clothed Male, Post-Canon, Post-Movie: Beyond Re-Animator (2003), Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Time Skips, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25020367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adozendays/pseuds/adozendays
Summary: It feels like the destruction wreaked upon Arkham during the late 80s shaped your life. Finding out the truth behind the events became your obsession. When you meet the man who caused it all, Herbert West, the two of you form an unusual, but strong bond. So when he escapes prison, you wind up going with him.As it turns out, a strong bond mixed with a nearly lifelong obsession on your end and Herbert’s need for human contact after 13 years spent locked up leads to the two of you fucking each other’s brains out.
Relationships: Herbert West/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	intoxicated with the madness

**Author's Note:**

> In order to try and have the timeline make sense, I fudged it a bit. The events of the first movie took place in 1987, the events of ‘Bride’ occurred during the late summer of 1989 (let’s say that Dan and Herbert graduated early) and Beyond takes place in 2002.

One of his bedroom windows allowed Herbert to have an excellent view of what was happening at the very end of the driveway. As he watched you climb onto the lap of the young man that he had seen sniffing around you for the past few weeks, he wondered if you were aware of that. If you knew that he had seen you take off your shirt, that he was watching your companion fumble to undo your bra as you removed his belt and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

Herbert watched as your slender, delicate hand reached into his pants. As your date undid your jeans, his hands seemingly as clueless as they had been when he had tried to remove your bra. It took less than five minutes for your suitor to climax and Herbert could tell that you hadn’t even gotten started. You smacked the young man’s shoulders, cursing at him as you got out of the car, pulling your shirt over your head.

When you walked into the house, your heavy boots stomping, Herbert was in the kitchen, pretending to be contemplating the contents of the refrigerator.

“It’s rather late for you to be getting in,” he said as a greeting.

“And how is that any of your business?” you asked, standing next to him as you also gazed into the refrigerator. He could smell beer and your perfume, see how your eyeliner and lipstick had smeared, the latter more so than the former and how your shirt wasn’t quite on correctly.

“We live together. Not disturbing me during late hours is a common courtesy.” It wasn’t his best lie, but it was all he could come up with in the moment.

“Are you sure that it’s not because me coming home earlier would give you a better view?” You stood up straight as Herbert’s face briefly showed his panic over having been caught. It barely lasted and his usual expression was in place. But you had managed to catch it, leaving the kitchen with a smirk before Herbert could come up with a retort.

\--

The two of you had met several years ago, when Herbert had still been in prison. You had come to see him, having gotten a summer internship at the law firm that had represented him all of those years ago. Herbert had pretended to know who you were in front of people, as he had recognized your last name.

Your great-uncle Seymour had known both West and Gruber, as he had been a scientist as well. He had vouched for Herbert when he had applied to Miskatonic. It had been your uncle that had helped Herbert out of trouble the first time and when he had been arrested, your uncle had helped hide a good deal of his money in various accounts. There was even a false identity set up for the man to use, for some reason. You and your older brother, Scott, had been raised by your uncle ever since the death of your parents. As they had passed when you had been an infant, your only real parental figure had been your uncle.

But your connection to Herbert West did not end there.

Megan Halsey had been your favorite babysitter. She had looked after you the weekend before she had died. The two of you had made friendship bracelets, exchanging your creations. Yours was still in your jewelry box.

Nearly two years later, Scottie had been forced to take you along when he had gone to a sleepover at a friend’s house, even though the two of you had never been very close. While he and the two other boys, Howie and Georgie, had been in the backyard, you had been awkwardly having ‘girl time’ with Howie’s older sister, Emily. You had been in the living room when it had happened. The man had shambled right past you, and you hadn’t even seen him, but you had heard everything that had happened in the kitchen. As you had run out of the house, you had seen Emily’s death twitches. Scottie had seen nearly all of it and even know, while he was ‘fully recovered’, he was anxious in kitchens when it was dark out to this day.

You had grown up hearing the whispers about what had really happened. By the time you were thirteen, the same age your brother had been that awful night, you were sure that Arkham hadn’t had two unfortunate incidents regarding escaped mental patients. The same name kept popping up when people dared to speak about it, usually said in hushed whispers by adults who didn’t know you were listening: Herbert West.

By the time you had reached adulthood, you knew one thing was indisputable: all roads led back to Herbert West.

At some point during your high school years, there had been a dinner party thrown and the ‘incidents’ had come up. A woman had viciously hissed at your uncle that maybe if he hadn’t vouched for the man, none of this would have happened. Later that night, you had asked him why he had defended West so much. Even to that day, your uncle had been unable to say anything negative, calling West a brilliant but misguided young man.

_A long time ago, when I was a young man studying in Europe, there was someone I loved, cared for very deeply. He and West were like father and son, so I wanted to do what Hans would have done, as a way to honor him. I would go to the same lengths for you, Schätzchen._

Not long after you had started college, your uncle had died, the agony of that loss unlike anything you had ever felt before. You had screamed upon hearing the news, wailing inconsolably. Everything you would have felt for both of your parents had gone towards him and without him, you felt alone. It took months for you to go through his things and start your quest for answers. There wasn’t a lot left about what had happened. You had been able to learn some names of those involved, confirming that Herbert West was at the center of it all, there was the bank account information, the name of the law firm that had represented him and a few other odds and ends.

The first place you had started your search for answers had of course, been the university. Howard Phillips had joined you for a while, also seeking answers about what had happened. Eventually, you had reached too many dead-ends and had realized that you had learned all you could. Of course, you could have spent the summer tracking down the people who had left town and asking them what had happened, such as Mace the security guard and Daniel Cain. But you didn’t want to open up old wounds or worse. So, you had applied for that internship, hoping that the prison was as poorly run as you had heard. Much to your delight, it had been, and you had finally been able to meet the man who had brought so much destruction.

You hadn’t known what to expect. Herbert West and his experiments had cut a swath of destruction through Arkham. He might have been behind bars, but his actions were still affecting people. When you found yourself face to face with the source of your childhood traumas, you were surprised to see…just a man. A man who was attractive in a distinguished, intelligent way, with a penetrating gaze. But still just a man.

_“I am assuming that you are Seymour’s niece,” Herbert said as you took a folder out of your bag._

_“You are correct, Mr. West. Were you informed of his passing?” You asked, trying to sound professional, even though you were far from one. You were an English major and had no plans to go to law school._

_“Yes, I was.” Herbert didn’t offer any condolences, but you had not expected any. From what you had gathered about the man sitting across from you, he wasn’t the sort to do so._

_“Good. Glad I don’t have to break that news.” You pretended to shuffle some papers around, in case the guards were watching. They weren’t and the room was camera-free, but you still wanted to be careful._

_“Why are you here, Miss. L/N?” Herbert asked after a long silence._

_“The events that you caused during your time at Miskatonic affected people that I cared about as well as myself. I have spent nearly a decade wondering what really happened to Megan Halsey and her father, the truth about the night that Emily Phillips died, why my uncle went to such lengths to protect you. After exhausting all other sources, I decided that it was time that we actually met. Because all roads lead to you, Dr. West.”_

_He might not have legally been a doctor for a long time, but you knew that you would get what you wanted by referring to him as such._

The two of you had kept in touch over the years. Even long after you had quit the law firm, you had kept using your credentials and no one had questioned it. It had made your skin crawl to show off your cleavage so the warden wouldn’t question you, but you had done it. Herbert had looked displeased at the news, clenching his fists when you had told him why your blouse was more unbuttoned than usual and why you had worn bright red lipstick that day. During his years in solitary, you had managed to get to see him every now and then. The guards were easily bribed, so when the warden was away, they would alert you and you would come, playing your part. It helped that you brought food sometimes, the occasional tray of tamales or pupusas doing almost as much as a few c-notes.

When Herbert had been let out of solitary and the two of you had been able to meet in the usual room, as opposed to the glass partition and phone setup or talking through the slot in the door of his cell, he had grabbed your hands and had refused to let go for a long time.

That had been the most physical contact the two of you had until the night he had escaped from jail.

_You had heard about the riot at the prison on the police scanner. When your phone had rang, you had not been surprised to hear Herbert at the other end. He hadn’t asked for you to come get him, but you had shown up anyway, parking your car a good distance from the chaos of the prison and pretending to be another rubbernecker. It had been easy for the two of you to slip away, due to the size of the crowd._

_The drive had been in near silence. You had told him that your house was on the outskirts of Arkham, which made it the perfect place to hide. Herbert casually mentioned that he had seen the records room on fire. No one was going to be able to connect you to the prison. When you had stopped at a stoplight, the last one before you would get on the lonely road that would eventually lead you home, you had reached over to grab a mint from the glovebox and your hand had brushed over his thighs. Maybe that was what had caused what happened next._

_“Pull over.” Herbert’s voice was harsh, demanding and a quick glance at him showed you that his fists were clenched and even with only the moon as a source of light, you could tell that he was shaking. You pulled over, the car surrounded by trees and the moonlight barely reaching the two of you._

_“What’s-?” Before you could ask him what was going on, Herbert was kissing you, his nails digging into the sides of your neck, his lips rough and demanding, faintly tasting of blood. The taste became stronger when he bit your lower lip hard enough to break the skin just a little bit._

_It happened with the front seat reclined all the way and pushed back as far as it could go. Herbert had flipped you onto your hands and knees, yanking down your pants and ripping off your underwear, throwing them out the window. He had crudely fingered you for a short time before plunging into you, making you scream from the mix of pain and pleasure. While he was of average length, he was…well his girth almost defied logic. His fingers jammed their way into your mouth to muffle the sounds you were making as he fucked you. There was no other way to describe it. Herbert was fucking you, one hand gripping your hair while the fingers of the other gagged you. He came across your back and used the wet wipes you kept in the glove box to clean it up._

_Once you had caught your breath, you had pulled up your pants and resumed the drive home._

Herbert had given his form of an apology later that night and had told you that it would never happen again. That he had been caught up in his sudden freedom. He had even told you that he wasn’t attracted to you, which had been strangely hurtful, even though you hadn’t helped him escape because you wanted him to be your boyfriend.

Though you had no idea why you had helped him. Maybe it was because you had spent over a decade being obsessed with him, or maybe you were fond of him in some way.

You hadn’t even come when the two of you had fucked, which was just rude.

It all seemed to be written in the stars. Scott had recently found out that his wife was pregnant, and they were living in a one-bedroom apartment. The two of you had been discussing him moving into the house where you currently lived, which had been the house the two of you had grown up in. The house your parents had been living in before they died was still in the family. It was in a small town in Maine called Insgrove. It was also an isolated property, but best of all, due to the efforts to cover up everything, no one would know who Herbert West was.

A few days after his escape, you had driven to Insgrove with Herbert and had left him there while you went back to Arkham to tie up loose ends there. Just as you had hoped, no one had come asking for you. Herbert West was considered among the dead and severely mutilated. Poor Howard had gone mad and was unable to be of any help. You had felt guilty, crying in your car when you had left the hospital. The guilt had only grown when you had realized that you were helping the man responsible for your brother’s trauma and so many others, probably. But you had pushed past it, as you had to live with your choices. In for a penny, in for a pound.

You soon had a new job in a nearby city. As you were a technical writer, you could work from home a few days a week. Herbert quickly learned how to use the internet and began to do freelance work. Mostly editing papers, but he did some research every now and then. It was tedious at times, but that was better than feeling like he owed you.

The two of you coexisted, roommates that could go days without speaking to each other. You lived your life, he lived his. Sometimes they intersected. Usually they didn’t.

But then tonight, you had seen Herbert at the window, watching you give a guy named Brad that couldn’t get your bra off or get into your panties a handjob in the front seat of his Volvo. The last time you had parked in the driveway with a date, you had seen him there as well, but it had been a fleeting glance as you had gotten out of car. Now, you were wondering if he had seen you blowing that guy, whose name you didn’t even remember.

The answer to that was yes. Herbert had watched your head vanish from view, and it had taken him a moment to realize what you were doing. But he had remained, watching your head bob up and down, not realizing that he was aroused until you were done, and he had turned away from the window. He had listened to you walk through the house as he had relieved himself.

Thirteen years in prison with almost no physical contact that wasn’t a fight with another man had done things to his mind. Herbert hadn’t been as physically driven as Dan, but he did have his urges, his desires. And when he had been left with nothing but his thoughts, they had seemingly taken on a life of their own.

And even now, when he had his freedom back, Herbert found himself still thinking those sorts of things. Only now, there was a face to the woman in his fantasies.

\--

There was something in the house after that night. It wasn’t a tangible thing; it was closer to a presence. The knowledge that Herbert was a man with desires after all, that you were ‘active’ in that department, that he watched, you knew it and hadn’t told him to stop, all of it seemed to meld together to create that presence. Somehow, even after what had happened the night that he had escaped prison, all of that hadn’t come together in either of your minds.

But now, it just there, surrounding both of you, the knowledge that the other person in the house was a sexual being. Suddenly, what had happened the night of the escape, it mattered now. It was relevant, somehow becoming more than a source of release that had only happened out of convenience.

Your bedrooms were right next to each other. Herbert’s desk and your bed shared the same wall. When one room was silent, the occupant could hear what was going on in the room next door.

One evening not long after the night you had realized Herbert liked to watch you say goodbye to your dates, you were in bed, listening to a CD. When it ended, you realized that could hear Herbert at his desk. And you were in the mood already…

Herbert wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing at first. But your moans clarified what was the source of the faint, but continuous buzzing sound. He clenched his pen hard enough for it break as you continued, your cries of pleasure growing louder, even after he had thumped the wall. Especially after that.

When he stood up, Herbert became aware of his own…issue. He clenched his jaw and retreated down to the basement, where he would take care of it. The last thing he wanted was to give you the satisfaction of knowing you got a reaction out of him.

\--

“Don’t you own a pair of pants?”

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to stare?”

Herbert was working on editing a research paper in the living room, finding the bright, open space more bearable at the moment, as opposed to the smaller bedroom or darker basement. It was a Sunday, one of your days off. So you were walking around in a battered Nirvana shirt that you had owned since high school. It fell to your mid-thigh, barely qualifying you as being dressed ‘decently’. Herbert was in his usual outfit and was well-groomed as usual. In contrast, your hair was mussed, and yesterday’s eyeliner was still faintly smudged around your eyes.

The two of you were still in that weird place, almost but not quite locked in a battle of wills. After all, in order for that to happen, one of you had to acknowledge that something more was going on and neither of you wanted to do that.

The gaze that the newspapers had described as cold, dispassionate, and once, pure evil, was now fixed on you as you walked to the sofa, a book in hand. Herbert had been hoping you would take the chair. But no, you sat on the sofa, stretching out across it, your back against the arm of the sofa. Your legs were slightly bent at the knee, and not kept together. Herbert knew what he would see if he turned his head towards you.

It was bad enough that seeing you in just a large t-shirt had emphasized just how much smaller you were than him. Herbert wasn’t a very tall or muscular man; he had been very aware of that even before he had gone to prison. While you came up to a little past his shoulder, you were slight. Your waifish figure made you look fragile, harmless. Herbert was sure that you had used that to your advantage when you had been visiting him in prison.

On that first night, Herbert had felt oddly powerful when he had been manhandling you in the car. His body had almost entirely covered yours as he had taken you from behind. Herbert had been equally excited by his freedom, the sensations and being able to have a bit of power, which had made the act brief, but immensely pleasurable.

The silence could have been for a few minutes. Maybe it lasted a half hour. Herbert had no idea. As he finished editing the paper, only checking the grammar and syntax at this point, you made a disdainful noise and without thinking about it, Herbert turned his head towards you.

And he got a brief glimpse of your thighs and the scrap of cloth that’s covering what’s between them, though all he could see that the fabric is a dark color. And for a moment, his mind went blank. 

When he came back to himself, he was on top of you, between your thighs and pinning you down with his body alone. The hem of your shirt had ridden up to your waist, revealing that your underwear is dark blue with a lace trim. Herbert’s fingers curled around the waistband and the fabric is thin, soft, the sort that would easily tear.

“What are you thinking about, Dr. West?” you whispered in his ear, arching your back, rubbing yourself against him.

Herbert answered the question by yanking your shirt over your head and ripping off your panties, tossing both garments to the floor. Seeing you naked and squirming under him excited him more than anything had in years, particularly once he noticed the contrast of his own clothed body pressed against yours. You’re so small, vulnerable under him and Herbert brought his hand between your legs, fully expecting you to be dry, not even touching you in a way meant to stimulate you, merely to examine.

“Look at you. I hadn’t even touched you yet and you’re already so wet.” He ran his fingers along your slit, unable to resist. In response, you shuddered and whimpered, squirming under him. “You’re so wet, I could just slip into you.”

“Then why don’t you?” The waiting was agony. The last time, at this point he had already been inside of you, filling you with that thick cock, making you scream.

One of his hands pulled out his cock, not even taking off his pants, while the other wrapped around your throat. Herbert didn’t apply any pressure, merely resting his hand there. It would be a threat if you were afraid. But when Herbert looked into your eyes, he could only see desire. You wanted him, even with his hand around your throat. In theory, he held your life in his hands. And you had practically handed it to him. 

The thought was enough for him to drive into you, Herbert pushing nearly all of his length into you at once, making you wail and wrap your legs around his waist, your heels pushing him closer to you.

“Fuck me, Dr. West.” You needed it, needed to feel something good. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him in for a kiss, this one more sensual, almost affectionate when compared to the last kiss the two of you had shared. Herbert turns it harsh, his hands going to your hips so he can pound you harder. You moaned into his mouth, one of your hands going between your legs so you can rub your clit. At least this time, you should be able to come.

Your fingers were still going when Herbert came inside of you, your walls clenching down around him as he fucked you through his own climax. The only noises made by the two of you are harsh breathing and some soft cries from you as you come on his cock.

When you tried to pull away, as you thought that was what he would want, Herbert grabbed you and pulled you back to him. It took some careful maneuvering, but the aftermath of your second time with him was spent spooning on the couch, Herbert’s arms around you and his face buried in the crook of your neck, seeking something that he dared not ask for out loud.

\--

One night, Herbert fell asleep in the lab and dreamed for once. He didn’t dream often. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t even remember that he had. But that night, he dreamt that he was back in solitary confinement. That the steel door with the small window and slot was keeping him contained again. That his work was gone, that everything he had gained by escaping was gone.

That you were gone.

When he woke up, Herbert took a moment to situate himself and reassure himself that he was still free. That being in the lab was real and that prison was a distant memory.

When that perturbing feeling would not go away, Herbert went to seek you out. He hated that he needed to be around you, but nothing else seemed like it would do.

You were fast asleep, curled around a pillow. Herbert kicked off his shoes and removed his glasses, setting them on your bedside table, next to the glass of water and on top of the book you had been reading. As he stood by your bed, you mumbled in your sleep and moved just enough that it allowed him to comfortably get in.

It took Herbert a while to give into his urge to hold you. But when he did, he was overcome with a feeling of peace. His mind was calm, for once.

You woke up when you felt his arms go around you and pull you close to him. At that point, you knew what Herbert’s body felt like. He didn’t leave after the two of you fucked, either pulling you into an embrace just like this one or helping you to the nearest comfortable surface so the two of you could recover in each other’s arms. The sex was usually fast and rough, the sort that you could still feel the next day. Herbert had yet to fully remove any of his clothes, not even his shirt. Both of you tended to have marks afterwards, though yours far outnumbered his.

Sometimes, you wanted to ask him for a little more than just lying there in silence for a little while before he would just get up and leave you to process everything alone. It was always silent, save for heavy breathing. You didn’t feel bad afterwards, just…sometimes a bit off. The actual sex part was fantastic, way better than anything else you’d ever had. The part after, not so much. You still enjoyed feeling him against you. His arms made you feel safe, comfortable. After so many years alone, somehow adrift despite being surrounded by people, you no longer felt alone.

\--

The tap on the window made you snarl and turn towards the source of the sound. You were once again on the lap of your latest date, lipstick smeared around your mouth and your bra on the passenger seat.

“I think it’s time for you to say goodnight,” Herbert said tersely, glowering at your date, who just looked confused.

“Is this your dad…?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bra before getting out of the car, not answering when he asked if you would call him.

Once the two of you were back inside, you whirled on Herbert, anger rising up faster than it ever had before. “What the fuck is your problem?” you screamed. “Stop giving me mixed signals! I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

The last time the two of you had fucked, you had idly asked Herbert _what the hell are we even doing?_ You hadn’t even expected an answer. It hadn’t been a real question. But Herbert had become cold, practically pushing you out of his arms and he hadn’t even been able to look at you when you asked him what was going on. It had taken him days to even speak to you again. And it was clear that he was no longer interested in fucking you again.

So, you had gone back to trying to find someone else to make you feel good. Or even anything at all that would basically burn Herbert out from under your skin. You needed to forget how he felt to move on.

And yet, even though he didn’t want you anymore, Herbert still acted irritated whenever he saw anything that indicated you were moving on. It was annoying, to say the least.

You walked up to him and spoke your next words slowly, clearly. “I’m. Not. Yours.” You turned around to leave the room, calm down, but then Herbert grabbed you and spun you back around, the two of you now pressed together. He grabbed your hair and pulled it, forcing you to look up at him.

This was not a new feeling for Herbert. The first time had been years ago, when you had come for a visit with two extra buttons undone on your blouse and garish red lipstick that seemed all wrong for you. You had explained why you didn’t look like yourself. The warden might have been getting suspicious, so you had decided to take advantage of the sort of man he was to ensure that he didn’t. Herbert had been able to conceal how he had felt rage, hostility and possessiveness knot together in the pit of his stomach, for reasons that he had been unable to fully comprehend until one night in solitary. You were his, he had realized. Very few things were his anymore and you were the one person that was only there for him.

Of course, Herbert had set about suppressing it once he had his head back on straight. And for a long time, he had been able to deny it all, even to himself. But it would bleed through on occasion, until he had been unable to hold back and it all just burst forth.

“You are mine,” Herbert whispered, looking into your eyes. The kiss that followed was rough, hungry. You kissed him back, unable to help yourself, open-mouthed and needy. It seemed that no matter what, your body responded best to him.

In his bedroom, Herbert pushed you onto the mattress and began to undress you. As in, he took the time to remove your clothes properly. There was none of the usual frantic yanking and tearing that had ruined so many garments. There was urgency, but care at the same time.

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good,” Herbert murmured against your thigh, which was slung over his shoulder. As if to emphasize the point, his tongue swirled over your clit, making you moan and push your hips upwards, asking for more without saying a word.

At first, Herbert’s mouth and fingers were rather clumsy, the actions of a man who hadn’t done this sort of thing in a long time. Which was accurate. But with some directing from you and sheer determination from him, you were eventually trembling and moaning, your pleasure building until you were so close and terrified of what you were about to feel. 

“Scream for me.” Herbert’s face came up from between your thighs and one of your hands went from gripping the sheets to his hair, pushing him back between your legs. When you came, you did scream, crying out his name over and over again, your thighs clamping down on his head. Herbert didn’t stop, still sucking your clit and two of his fingers still inside of you.

Only once you had collapsed onto the mattress, softly panting and mewling, nearly exhausted, did he stop, coming up from juncture of your thighs and moving up your body. “Tell me what you need,” Herbert softly demanded, resting his forehead against yours. One of his hands went back between your legs, gently probing.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you begged, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his fingers found your clit again just as you had begun to recover.

The world seemed to stop for a few moments, Herbert taking a moment to process what you had just said while you wanted to just vanish into the earth out of sheer shame. But then, he began to undress, which you watched with hungry eyes, eager to finally see him.

Your hands were shaking as you reached out to finally touch him. “Herbert…” you whispered as you finally felt his pounding heart beating against your palm. There was nothing between the two of you for once, your skin no longer rubbing against cloth.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.” Herbert felt that need for control, not enjoying even that tiny feeling of vulnerability that came with being so exposed. You did as he asked, spreading your legs wide enough to reveal your drenched sex and “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this, just for me.” There was a reverence in his voice as he grabbed your legs, pushing them back towards your chest, keeping them in the air as he sunk into you. His pace wasn’t as frenzied as usual, though each stroke was forceful, making you cry out in pleasure.

“God, this feels so good…” you arched your back, hands going to fondle your tits, giving him a bit of a show. “Pound my little pussy with your big cock daddy. Fucking show me who I belong to.”

Herbert’s eyes became cold, determined and his grip on you tightened as he began to pump his hips faster, harder, giving you want you had asked for.

When it was over, you were a quivering mess, crying from being overstimulated in several ways. Herbert hovered over you, gently setting your legs down onto the mattress so you could finally relax. Your body felt boneless with every nerve on fire at the same time.

“Are you alright?” he asked, gently pushing the hair from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” You tried to be strong, even though you were still gasping, and it had taken so much effort to not beg him for what you needed. “It’s okay.” You sat up, ready to go back to your own room, as you always did when it was over.

“You’re lying.” Herbert picked up the blanket from the floor and draped it around your shoulders.

“It’s just…you usually just leave a little after. And this was intense. Can you stay this time?”

Herbert nodded, realizing that maybe he hadn’t been very kind to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You did so well. And you looked so beautiful.” He kissed the side of your head and you sagged against him, soon drifting off.

\--

Years ago, in a time that felt like a different life, Herbert had asked you why you had come to visit him. Your answer had been satisfactory at the time. But things had outgrown that explanation a long time ago. Now, months after you had picked him up from the prison and the two of you had silently agreed to share your lives, he was going to find out why you had gone this far.

It was winter now, the two of you sharing a blanket as you sat in front of the fire. Herbert had taken a break, having gone as far as he could without some supplies that were on still on their way. You had been working hard on your latest work assignment and had gotten some treats to celebrate the major project.

“Why did you keep coming back?” Herbert asked, staring into the fire rather than looking into your eyes. “You had your answers by the end of the first visit. Why did you keep coming back?”

You sighed and stared down at your mug of hot chocolate. “Herbert, I spent so much of my life obsessed with you. I was looking for answers since I was a child.”

It felt strange to finally be talking about this to someone else. Even Howard, who had helped you for a while, had no idea how deep your obsession went. “When I was growing up, you were this mysterious figure, almost like Arkham’s boogeyman. Trying to solve the mystery of what happened, of you, was one of the few constants in my life. My brother and I were never close, even before that night. My uncle was like a father to me, but he was very clearly not. And he wanted to protect you, to honor the memory of Dr. Gruber. He told me once that he would go to the same lengths for you that he would go to for me, all because of a long-lost love.”

Sighing, you finally looked at Herbert, taking his hand in yours. “I didn’t intend to keep coming back. But after I finally had my answers, I felt a little lost. So, I decided to go back, and I told myself it would be just once. Obviously, it wasn’t. Something kept pulling me back. Or maybe that’s how I justify not being able to let go of you. Looking for answers was my constant in life. You were my constant in life. I dreamed about you even before we met. It’s always been you, one way or another. So, it seemed inevitable that we wind up here. Together.”

Herbert could feel emotions forming a lump in his throat that he had to push down. “When I was in prison, I thought of you often. You were a ray of light in that place. And I am loath to admit this, but I wanted you all to myself even before my escape.”

Gently cupping your head, he kissed you on the mouth, more tenderly than usual. “I am yours. And you are mine,” he murmured against your mouth, bringing you closer.

“I am yours. And you are mine,” you repeated. And as the snow fell around your home, hiding the two of you from the world, both of you knew that from now on, at least you would always have each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, a sappy ending because I just couldn’t bear to have any other sort. My original idea for the ending was basically them realizing that they were both damaged in their own ways and could only have each other because of that, so even if they wanted other people, they couldn't be with anyone else. There was acknowledgment that she had thrown her life away for him and the ending would have been an angstier version of what I went with. But it didn't feel right by the time I got to the end. 
> 
> This was 13 pages in Word, so I felt like I had to stop. Not to mention I was running out of steam. But thanks for reading! I hope it lived up to any expectations, since I’ve basically been threatening my followers with this fic for like a week.


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